


Hold On, I Still Need You

by dopamine_darling



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Not A Fix-It, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Endgame, i cried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 05:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18888091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dopamine_darling/pseuds/dopamine_darling
Summary: i watched endgame alone in the back of a movie theatre while tears streamed down my face and this is the result.Or:Peter Parker is broken and Mr. Stark isn't there to fix him up.





	Hold On, I Still Need You

The weeks after the endgame.

They'd passed in an awful blur, a whirlwind of relief and joy tempered with the steady, horrible grief and sadness and loss. Natasha. Mr. Stark. 

"We don't trade lives."

Mr. Stark had mentioned that in one of his long rants about Mr. Rogers, or Captain America as he reminded everyone. Secretly, Peter thought it was one of the better things the captain had said back then. Now he knew the truth. Now, he knew that was absolute bullshit.

"We don't trade lives."

That didn't explain why he was alive and Mr. Stark was gone. That didn't explain the fact that they'd traded two of their own for the other half of the universe. It didn't explain how much everything hurt, an ache deep inside that he knew would never go away.

And Morgan. He’d only known the little girl for a short time but he was certain he’d die for her. She had Mr. Stark's eyes, his intellect. his mischievous personality, his smirk. She was absolutely beautiful but she would forget the man who’d given his life for her. She’d forget the man who had loved her more than anything in the world.

Eventually, they’d all forget.

Peter barely knew what was happening anymore. All he knew was the dark bedroom in his apartment, dusty from five years abandoned. but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as though five years had passed in his mind. For him, just yesterday he’d been on that planet, far out in space, turning to dust. And then he was back, and so was everyone else, and they were fighting fighting fighting again. 

He’d seen Mr. Stark. And for those precious minutes, everything had been alright.

Now it wasn't. 

The funeral stood out in his mind, of course. That might have been the only thing that did. He’d stood there, trying to be strong, barely registering what was happening. Barely able to accept that Mr. Stark-  
He remembered after the funeral, saying something to May after a long bout of tears and grief and pain spent in her arms, in their tiny apartment. "He’s not gone," Peter had said.

May didn’t speak, letting Peter struggle to explain like she knew he needed to. The boy needed closure, he needed to talk and cry, and as much as it hurt her to see him in pain, the best she could do was listen and hold him as he sobbed.

"He's everywhere. I can't stop seeing him, I see him in Morgan, I see everything he left behind, I see his legacy wherever I go," he stuttered, letting out a choked, strangled sob. "How do I get it to stop, how do I-"

And now the tears were flowing again, and nothing would be alright. He was angry, he was scared, he was so damn tired and sad and broken. So he stood up, May releasing him from her hold. He stumbled into his room, slamming the door shut, and collapsed against it

Three weeks passed.

And a month.

A month and a week.

Two months had passed.

Peter had left his room once a day to use the bathroom, always when May was out. He’d taken food with him, back to his room. And he sat in there, sometimes working, sometimes thinking, sometimes just staring at the wall.

Most times crying. 

He knew he'd be alright eventually, knew that he should return Ned’s calls and talk to May and Happy and Pepper and the rest of the Avengers and Morgan-

But for now, all he wanted was to ignore the world and lie in bed and be miserable in peace. 

Seventeen years old, sandwiching loving, nerdy, awkward Peter Parker was broken, beyond repair and healing. Desperately reaching out for someone who couldn't be there, would never again be there. And nothing would ever be the same.


End file.
